


Star-Crossed Immortals

by Arthemis_Silverheart



Category: Immortals After Dark - Kresley Cole
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2018-10-19 06:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arthemis_Silverheart/pseuds/Arthemis_Silverheart
Summary: For the Valkyrie Helen, vampires were leeches to be killed. For the Vampire Horde King Demestriu, she was his Bride to win over.





	1. Her Prey

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Ever since I read A Hunger Like No Other, I was curious as to how the romance between Emmaline's parents developed. Kresley Cole never really gave the specifics, except that Demestriu nearly killed Helen, and other snippets present in the Warlord wants Forever and Lothaire. 
> 
> Because Helen and Demestriu's story was an itch I really wanted to relieve, I decided to write my own take as to how their story unfolded. I've tried to be faithful to the snippets Ms. Cole provided, but other scenarios and scenes were just made up. I haven't found a lot of Helen X Demestriu fics, and I hope to fill that gap.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one!

_1915, Symphony Hall, Boston_

It was the perfect night to kill leeches.

Helen adjusted her hat and the elegant black net covering her face. With her Valkyrie features obscured from view, she had no problem mingling with the humans. As long as they didn't see her pointed ears, her delicate fangs and kept her claws inside her pretty gloves, Helen would survive.

Yes, the perfect disguise for the perfect night to kill leeches, she smirked.

Boston had been swarming with vampires as of late, to no reason she and her Valkyrie sisters understood why. Vampires, or leeches, as they fondly called them, preferred to hunt their prey in the night, and that was the reason why Helen chose to lurk Symphony Hall.

The Symphony Hall, for instance, was another perfect place for them to blend in.

Helen chose to sit on the balcony that cold spring night, wanting a complete view of tonight's audience. Several male humans leered their heads for a glimpse of her. No matter how flattering it was, if they weren't her target, she wasn't interested in them.

As one of the oldest Valkyries, perhaps near to Nix's age, Helen used every arsenal in her command— her female wiles and skill with a sword, to kill her foe. Tonight was no different.

Compared to her sisters, Helen knew she was no great beauty. Her Lydian heritage gifted her with her dark hair and eyes, features which were beautiful, but plain when matched to her exotic Valkyrie sisters.

Annika, one of her closest sisters with her angelic beauty said that everyone had their own brand of beauty. The most beautiful of their kind, Myst the Coveted had been kind, calling her hauntingly beautiful.

Hauntingly beautiful, Helen mused. Perhaps those adjectives were the reasons why she had attracted and killed scores of vampires in her entire existence.

She licked her lips, feeling the fine hairs behind her neck rise. It was unusual for her to feel goosebumps and she looked around. Across her, Balcony Seven, sat seven men, all dressed in black. One man, with shoulder length blond hair in particular, had his face partially covered with a mask.

As if he didn't want other people to see his eyes.

Helen's senses sharpened. This was a creature of the lore, and whether he was vampire or not, she would see him, talk to him, and render judgment.

The music was pleasant, tolerable at most. Helen was never fond of music, but had grown to appreciate it after nights of visiting the Symphony Hall. Once the show had ended, she refrained from leaving her box. There was still the mystery man she was waiting for, and if he was indeed the person who caused her goosebumps, then he would be arriving soon.

"Excuse me, milady. I believe this is yours?" he handed her a neatly folded handkerchief with her initials inscribed, a bright red H.O.T. across the elegant smooth fabric. "I found it behind your chair."

Helen had deliberately dropped the article. Smiling, she accepted the handkerchief. "Yes, it's mine. Thank you very much, sir…?"

"Fyodor." He answered. "and you are?"

Fyodor, she repeated to herself. Why did the name ring a bell? His face was still covered with that mask, as if he fancied himself as the Phantom of the Opera. She still couldn't see his features, whether his eyes were of the Fallen, or of Kristoff's faction.

"Helen." She replied. "Just Helen."

"You have beautiful eyes." He murmured.

"My eyes are dark and common, sir."

"Fyodor, if you please."

She battered her eyelashes. "My eyes are rather plain and nothing too remarkable, Fyodor."

"Nonsense. You're a beautiful woman."

Then suddenly, she felt the goosebumps again. She looked at him again, tall and imposing. She felt his eyes, silently appraising her.

"You are making me uncomfortable." She admitted with honesty, an admission she never would have given to another immortal.

"I can make you comfortable."

"How?"

Helen was playing a dangerous game, and she knew it. Unless she determined this Immortal's kind, the sick feeling in her stomach would never go.

"The night is still early. Would you care for a walk underneath the moon?"

"Drape me with that coat of yours."

He was startled, as if it was his first time experiencing a woman who demanded a coat from him. Then he removed and draped it over her, and she caught a whiff of him, virile, male.

And vampire.

"Thank you." She said, smiling.

He offered her his arm. "Is something wrong?"

"I was thinking… of how tall you are." She lied.

"You're a tall woman yourself."

Wordlessly, she grasped her arm as he led her outside. Not too far was a garden maze and they strolled around. To her surprise, she found he had a dark sense of humor, and as she exchanged stories with him, she knew she was treading dangerous waters.

She hadn't even determined his eyes. If he could only remove his mask…

"You're in deep thought." The vampire said. "Am I boring you with my tales?"

"I was thinking about how you resemble Erik."

"and who, is Erik?"

"Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera."

He gaped at her, before laughing. His hand touching his mask. "I didn't know my mask bothered you so. Should I remove it?"

"I want to see the Phantom beneath his mask."

"Everything changed when the Phantom was unmasked." He answered.

"Please," she requested, preparing her claws.

"If you insist… my dear little Valkyrie." And he removed his mask.

Helen cursed.

How could she have not recognized him? With his blond hair, his height, and the bloody red eyes… Of all the vampires she had to run into, it had to be _him._

The Vampire Horde King, Demestriu.

Game's over, she thought, she could face other low ranking vampires, but not this leech.

She ran as fast as she could, with his coat still draped across her body. Then he traced in front of her, and struck her with his palm. The impact flew her several feet away. It was enough to make her head bleed.

The Horde King approached and crouched beside her. Looking at him, Helen beheld his haunting features. Handsome, evil.

"Fyodor, huh?"

"My other name, Valkyrie." He said dispassionately. Then he yanked the net concealing her face, and held her neck in a tight grip.

"So how do Valkyries perish?" he asked.

She spat against him.

He tightened his grip around her neck, choking her further. "Ah yes, I remembered. Beheading, wasn't it? It's unfortunate I do not have a sword with me, perhaps I should use the one hidden underneath your petticoat? Hm, are you surprised my dear? Don't be. I've analyzed how you prey on my kind, Valkyrie."

He inched his head closer to her face, inhaling her scent. The blood flowing from her wound was enough to cause a faint reaction in his face. "But your blood smells very good. Helen, was it? I hope you won't mind if I have a taste of it, before I behead you. Blood from the living is vastly different from a dead one's."

"

"What a ridiculous question" she choked. "if you kill me, you might as well get on with it.

His lips curled into an evil smile, making his handsome face even more sinister. "If you insist." Then he licked the blood from her temples, and applied force around her neck.

It was getting difficult to breathe, she gasped, and instinctively, she tried to strike her assailer.

"You are a brave one, little Valkyrie. But I'm afraid your luck ends here."

"Blood sucking leech." She sneered. "I hope you rot in hell."

He smiled then, a beautiful smile on his handsome face. "Shall I send you there first?"

Helen struggled. Damn, she didn't spend her life only to be strangled by a fucking leech. She had to do something. Anything to distract him. Seconds would matter. And if she did that, she could still escape alive.

Then Helen felt it. He really was about to snap her neck into two!

Perhaps it was the strong emotion that accompanied her, the fear of death, that lightning cracked. Caught off-guard, Demestriu stared into Helen's eyes, her irises flashing silver. His grip had loosened and that was the moment Helen just needed.

With her entire might, she pushed him away and ran as fast as she could, not sparing him a single glance.

"Why did you let her go, uncle?" Lothaire asked. "You could have killed her with a snap of your hands."

Demestriu looked his nephew, quite unsure himself.

"Was it mercy, uncle?"

Demstriu glared at him. "You ask too many questions. Leave me."

Lothaire bowed and traced away.

In the comfort of his room, Demestriu allowed himself the comfort to relax. Relaxation was a luxury he couldn't afford, not after since he ascended the throne. No, since he had seized the throne.

Lightning cracked outside Castle Helvita, and the image of the black haired Valkyrie whom he nearly killed appeared in his mind.

The Valkyrie with the flashing silver eyes.

He had seen a Valkyrie's eyes flash silver before, before he strangled and snapped their dainty necks. It had never bothered him, but this Valkyrie, Helen, was different.

What was so special about her then, for him to spare her life, he wondered. Was it the blood? There was nothing special about it.

Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to drift back to Helen, with her haunting beauty. Helen, who called herself plain. Her image comforted him as he fell asleep, distracting him from the ugly dreams that he tried so hard to blot.


	2. His Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello there! Just wanted to tell you that this story was screaming for me to be finished. I'm fortunate enough that the ideas for how this story will flow came to me in a rush, and my only job was to transcribe it by hand. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Snow fell in heaps on the ground, adding to the depressive atmosphere of Castle Helvita. Inside his quarters, a single candle illuminated the inky darkness of the room. Demestriu sat near his study table, a decanter in hand, pondering. It was always snowing in Helvita, and it wasn't good for his mental health. Years of drinking straight from the source and devouring the memories of his victims were slowly taking its toll on him.

Not that he cared. He was the Horde King, and he couldn't afford to show his subordinates any weakness. Weakness was the reason why his brother was dead. And if he wasn't careful, it would kill him as well.

Perhaps he was getting old, if that was plausible.

Loreans had a very long lifespan, often reaching thousands of years. Some, hundreds. Some, never, because he had them killed.

His finger tapped the smooth mahogany table, the only sound reverberating the room.

Perhaps he should have killed her then, he thought absentmindedly. He could never answer why he hadn't snapped her neck that moment and chose to free her instead.

Compared to the other female Loreans he had seen in his lifetime, she wasn't that extraordinarily beautiful. Beautiful, yes. But not his type.

What was that black-haired Valkyrie's name again?

Ah, yes.

Helen.

_Helen, Helen, Helen._

Yes, he should have killed her then, so that she wouldn't plague his thoughts, just like now. As of late, he found himself thinking of her, an idea he found revolting.

It could only be madness, he rationalized.

She was just a Valkyrie, a Lorean he wanted to kill for interfering with his plans. But why was she occupying his thoughts?

Perhaps her blood was drugged. Didn't he have a taste of it during their fight in the Garden? Although it was delicious, it was nothing special. Or perhaps, she had collaborated with those Witches and enchanted him.

No, how preposterous. What utter madness she made him think!

_Cack. Cack._

"Who is it?" Demestriu said aloud, without glancing at the door.

"It's me, Uncle. I have reports from the spies."

"Trace."

Lothaire traced into his lair, bowing his head.

His nephew was his late brother's bastard son with Ivana, a vampire from the Realm of Blood and Mist. If Ivana had blooded his brother, then Lothaire would have been the legitimate heir to the Horde Throne. But he wasn't. Ivana wasn't his brother's Bride, and Lothaire had been born illegitimate. It was too bad. He liked his nephew, and the boy had so much potential. Even if he was of royal blood, the vampires would never recognize a Bastard King.

"What are the reports?"

"The Valkyrie hardly leaves and goes anywhere without her sisters."

"She's till vampire-killing with her sisters?" Demestriu asked.

Lothaire nodded.

Ah, one more reason to hate her. He massaged his throbbing temples. What a pain that Valkyrie was.

"You don't look well, uncle."

His nephew was perceptive. Too perceptive.

"That Valkyrie has hardly left my mind. I wonder if she has collaborated with some Witches to enchant me."

"Now why would a Valkyrie collaborate with those witches?"

"Good point."

He knew Valkyries operated on their own, and rarely collaborated with other Lorean species. It was impossible for them to form other alliances, unless they benefitted from it.

"Why this fascination with her?" Lothaire asked.

"She intrigues me when I should have killed her in the first place."

Lothaire kept his silence, until a thought filled his mind. "Could it be that…"

"What?"

His nephew shook his head. "Just a silly thought."

"Speak, or I shall have your heart staked and have you crucified until sunrise."

Lothair hardly blinked. "The Valkyrie could be your Bride."

The glass decanter in Demestriu's hand shattered into fine pieces.

Lothaire retreated, keeping his head lowered. "It's merely a speculation, uncle. Besides, how could your Bride be of their ilk?"

The Vampire Bride, every living vampire's dream of meeting and finding. Once a vampire had frozen into immortality, the heart would stop beating, and he would truly become the undead. Of course, if the vampire was fortunate enough to meet and be blooded by his Bride, his heart would beat again, and he would become stronger than the average vampire.

A Bride was a gift from the Gods, and Demestriu had long accepted that his destined Bride, whoever she was, was not of their kind. Many years ago, female vampires had died due to a mysterious plague, and the only female vampire he had met was Ivana. But she too, had perished because of his brother's doing.

He stood up, not caring that his hand bled, not caring as the glass fragments crunched under his boots. His bride, a Valkyrie? What cruel joke did the Gods decide to play on him? Of all the Lorean creatures, it had to be their ilk…

There was only one way to find out.

He turned around, facing his nephew. "Come. It looks like we'll see whether your speculation is correct or not."

The Valkyries lived in a large three-story manor sitting on a three-acre lot just by the outskirts of New York. Not that they hated the city life. They loved roaming the vast lands of the New World. Plus, if they lived in the city, their ear-shattering shrieks would annoy their neighbors. Better the outskirts than revealing their identities as Loreans.

The people would never suspect their true identities, of course. The Valkyries kept their distinguishing features hidden, their pointed ears tucked behind their hair. Their tipped claws covered in soft gloves, and their fangs… well, never mind.

That was how Helen and her sisters hid their identities as they roamed and killed leeches in the New World. However, after her altercation with the Horde King, she found herself less enthusiastic about killing them, opting to stay and supervise the chores in the Manor instead.

Her sisters had wondered and pestered, and in the end gave up. Phenix, one of her closest sisters, if not  _the_ closest, simply gave her an all-knowing smile. Nothing would ever escape that soothsayer's awareness. She wasn't surprised if Phenix knew about her encounter with the vampire king.

As she folded the linens, she felt another presence enter the laundry room.

"The linens smell great! Do I smell lavender?"

"What are you doing here, Annika?" Helen asked.

Annika approached her, taking the fresh pile of lines Helen had folded and set it in a basket "I wonder why Nix asked you to stay and guard our Manor instead of joining us in our Hunt."

Helen grinned. "She has reasons."

"Reasons which I don't approve."

"Don't worry."

"It's just that, you'll be all alone here."

"It's not bad." She assured her. "I can always manage."

"Helen…" Annika's voice drifted. "Ever since you went to that Boston theatre, you've changed."

Startled, Helen shook her head. "It's nothing, really."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Just… enjoy hunting leeches, and I'll enjoy-"

"-folding the linens?"

They looked at one another before bursting into laughter. "Why don't I help you?" Annika offered.

"You're about to leave in fifteen minutes."

Annika sighed. "You don't have to remind me. Oh, take care of yourself. Oh, wait. Why am I saying this? It's not as if we won't see each other 'll just be gone in a day or two."

Helen laughed. "It's not as if I'll disappear."

Once her sisters had disappeared, Helen took her time to check the manor's protective seals. As long as the seals were in place, no one could breach the manor's defenses. Confident that they were intact, she then occupied herself with household chores. They could have afforded to hire maids, but that would blow their covers.

And besides, they were Valkyries. Those humans would freak at the sight of their tipped claws, tipped ears, and tiny fangs.

As she went through the chores, thoughts of the Horde King strayed into her mind once more. It disturbed her that she often thought of him, when she shouldn't be.

No one had escaped the Horde King's clutches to live and tell the tale, but she did, lucky bitch that she was.

Except that she couldn't tell the tale.

The Gods had favored her again, it was more than enough to cherish her second life.

The day flew by and the sun had set, covering the land with darkness. Only the brilliance of the moon and stars provided the light for the land.

Helen lit the candles inside the manor, ensuring that every nook and cranny was well-illuminated with ample light. The manor was so different without her sisters, filling the halls with their shrieks and jeers.

She retired to her quarters, changed and sat on her vanity chair. What could she do to pass time? Well, she could always brush her long and flowing hair, couldn't she? Helen was about to brush her hair when her eyes fell on the window. Strange, she couldn't recall leaving the window open. Helen put the brush aside and closed the window panes.

What was she so edgy about? She was about to return to her vanity chair and froze at the sight before her.

No. It couldn't be.

"How did you get inside?" she asked with a voice full of steel.

The elegant figure sitting on her chair crossed his legs and flashed her a slow lazy smile. He was holding her brush in his hand, caressing the brush as if it was something soft and precious.

"Why Valkyrie, is that the proper way to greet a king?"

She could only feel and hear her heart pounding. She was alone with this vampire in her room.

How could he have broken through the protective spells around the manor? It was definitely intact.

She reached for her weapon but he quickly traced in front of her and grabbed her arm.

Helen cried and clawed at him instead.

"Feisty, aren't you?"

Helen managed to wiggle the arm free and punched him in the abdomen. She bolted for the window, but another figure materialized in front of her.

It was the fucking lordling leech Phenix asked her to spare a thousand years ago. Good Heavens. She should have killed him instead of listening to her sister.

"This isn't a fair fight." She breathed, assessing her surroundings. She was trapped… she just needed to find an opening and distract one of them. Damn vampires for their tracing ability.

Just as she was about to make her move, Lothaire slipped a hand in his pocket and retrieved an object, placing it right in front of her.

Helen froze.

For the love of Freya.

It was the bane of every breathing and living Valkyrie of the Lore.

Egg-shaped and encrusted with diamonds, the object shone and sparkled, reflecting the light of the moonlight.

It was so beautiful that she could hardly breathe, momentarily forgetting the two vampires in her room. In that moment, there was only her, and the egg-diamond, whatever it was called. She wanted to touch and caress it, to feel its coolness against her palm. If the Sorceri worshipped Gold, then the Valkyrie worshipped anything that glittered.

_Anything that glitters is life._

And it proved to be her downfall.

The Horde King pinned her to the grown, and the spell was broken. "Damn you." She hissed for exploiting her kind's weakness. "Go ahead and snap my head. Do it quick."

Demestriu's lips curled sardonically, and she wanted to claw his face. "Why should I?"

"I almost killed you."

"Good point." He exhaled. "But tell me, what good reason should I have to kill my own Bride? Tell me, and I might just do that."

Helen tried to register his last statement. Bride? A vampire's bride, her?

"What did you just say?"

* * *

 


	3. His Bargain

"Your bride?"

Helen stared at the vampire looming above her, carefully considering his words once more. The very thought that she was his bride was obscene enough to derail her sanity. "Your bride?" she repeated. "Are you shitting me? I can't be your bride. No. Not a leech like you-"

"Enough, Helen." Demestriu cut. "I will hear no more of it."

"Get off me, vampire."

Lothaire looked at the woman imprisoned in his uncle's grasp. "Uncle, why don't you just whisk her off to Castle Helvita?"

Helen turned her attention to Lothaire, recognizing him as the young boy she had spared a thousand years ago. "I should have decapitated you all those years ago. Fucking leech." She snarled.

Slowly shaking his head, Demestriu placed an index finger on her lips. "Shh. Such words are unfitting for a queen." And he deepened the pressure of his finger. "My queen, I remind you."

"I'm not your queen."

"You don't have a choice, Helen. I take what I need, with or without permission." Then he laughed. "I don't really need permission to take you, do I?"

Suddenly, her vision swirled. She gripped whatever steady figure she could, and to her dismay, there was only the vampire. Clutching the Horde King's clothes, she clung to him, until the swirling stopped. They were no longer in her room, but in a cold dark place.

Demestriu stood up. Freed of him, she rolled on her stomach, surveying her surroundings. A large window loomed not too far from her, and there was snow. Large drops of snow.

"This is?" she breathed, knowing where she was even before the Horde King could answer her.

"Welcome to your new home, bride."

"Castle… Helvita." The coldness seeped into her bones, and she crawled to a sitting position, crossing her arms, trying to provide her own body warmth. The Horde King took off his coat, bent beside her to drap the warm clothing.

"Ah, I forget how harsh our winter can be." He whispered.

"Get your hands off me." And she slapped his hands away. Not wanting to be grateful to him for the warmth of the coat. She couldn't, no, wouldn't look at him in the eyes. Not when she was at her most vulnerable. Not when she was without her blade.

Not right now.

"Leave us, nephew." She heard him order Lothaire. The young vampire merely nodded and vanished into thin air. Tracing, as what they called it. He probably traced somewhere to leave her in the clutches of the Horde King.

A few seconds passed, and she remained on the stone floor. Demestriu, still sitting beside her. Not touching nor talking to her, but she could feel his eyes on her being, and finally, she could bear no more.

"Am I truly your bride?"

"Why would I lie?" he replied.

"Of course. Pure blooded vampires cannot lie. I forget." She didn't know whether she was to be grateful to this fact. "Is this the reason why you spared me that night?"

"No," he said. "As a matter of fact, I truly meant to kill you." The words flowing from his lips with such cold brutality that Helen wondered if he had any heart at all. "You're rather infamous with the Horde. Killing you would avenge my people. All I had to do was snap your dainty neck in my hands. It was so easy, Valkyrie. But when I was about to do it, something within me compelled me not to."

Helen listened to him, horrified yet fascinated with his confession. Surely, she thought, he would kill her tonight at last. Even if she was his bride, the fact remained that he was his reviled enemy. The Horde King looked at her dispassionately, those cold blood red eyes assessing a prey as a predator would.

"I don't leave unfinished business. You were unfinished business. A trouble I had to deal with. But I couldn't ignore this instinct, whatever it was" he jabbed a finger against his chest. "I had people follow you, and you were giving me a hard time. If it wasn't for my nephew who made such a ridiculous proposition." And the Horde King chuckled. Chuckled! "Well, I don't think it is quite ridiculous now…especially when a notorious soothsayer confirmed it." He smiled at the dawning horror in Helen's eyes, taking pure delight. "Ah, I see. Would you really want to know the identity of that soothsayer? No, I don't think I have to tell you. You already know."

"Phenix… no, she couldn't-"

"Truly, that soothsayer is remarkable. Not even your queen could be so heartless as to give her sister to an enemy. That Golden-eyed Valkyrie can be quite ruthless. She and my nephew were friends, but she did something that… ah, well, I suppose there's no need for you to know. But they're not on exactly good terms-"

A crack of lightning stopped him. When Helen kept her silence, Demestriu continued with his monologue. "No need to be so sad my dear. As much as I love those silver eyes of your flashing right now, I don't believe this is the appropriate context that those beautiful eyes of yours should radiate like that."

"I could decapitate you for this, Horde King."

"You don't mean to, really. I can understand you're saying these things because you're upset. Now, why don't you have a sit?" he motioned her to sit by a chair, and when Helen refused to move, he grabbed her shoulder and traced to the furniture and motioned her to sit. Taking the opposite chair, he sat down, quite relaxed. "We'll discuss this like proper adult Loreans. Now, don't be obstinate with me, bride. You don't know what I can do. I don't really think you'd want to know."

She merely stared, wary of the words that could come from him.

"I want you." He said, but no words came from hers. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Demestriu prodded once more.

"I don't want you." She finally answered. "I don't want to do anything with you at all."

"You don't have a choice. Fate has brought us together, no matter how amusing it is." He fingers intertwined with another, his eyes locked with hers. "No matter how hateful it is."

"I hate this fate."

"Ah, I should say the same thing. But who knew what a blooding can do to change a vampire's opinion?"

"What about your opinion, Horde King? What exactly has changed?"

"I could have gone with my life and have my pick of beautiful women. The Lore has an abundance of them, and I've lived a thousand, no, more than a thousand years. I've had my taste of women."

"Good for you."

"But those women… when you're blooded, you come to realize those women aren't enough. They can never substitute the company of a vampire's bride." Then without warning, he traced in front of her, his face looming over as he pinched her chin between her fingers. "I want your love, Helen."

She tried not hard to vomit. "You just can't demand me to love you."

"It has to be earned?"

"As cliché it sounds, yes."

He scoffed. "I'm the Horde King. I don't need to earn your love."

"Well, I don't give a damn if you're the Horde King. Valkyries never gave a shit about your kind, neither do I."

"But what if I told you that if you gave me your love, I would spare your kind?"

She paused. Would he really do that?

"Ah, I see. I finally have your attention now. I have a proposition. I don't usually offer propositions. I use force. I take what I want, but I see how obstinate you can be. Just exactly as I am. If we keep this up, I will not get what I want, and you certainly will not get what you want."

"and who are you to know what I want?"

"Just the Lorean who can destroy your brethren with a simple command." He taunted. "Would you like that, Helen? Would you like me to kill your kind?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Are you challenging me?"

Her only response was the glare at him.

"I'm not asking much from you. In exchange for the safety of your sisters, all you have to do is to stay by my side."

"and if I don't agree?"

"Surely that's not too much to ask. Your presence in exchange for their safety."

"I will not be your whore."

"You're my queen. My bride." He reminded her. "Be logical my dear. You're known to be clear headed. Think of it this way. Your sisters will know peace, even if they will hunt and kill my kind. All you simply have to do is to stay beside me.

"Will you make a vow to the Lore then?"

He didn't suppress his laughter. "Very well, I vow to the lore that the Valkyries will not be harmed by my army, as long you vow to stay beside me as my bride."

Freya, he was really doing this.

"Now, why don't you make a vow to the Lore too?"

"What? Why?"

"It's just fair. I made a vow. You should make a vow too."

Biting her lips, she drew a deep breath. "I vow to the Lore that in exchange for my sisters safety, I will remain with the Horde King…until I can."

"Until I can?"

"Until I can."

"You do realize that this arrangement will be forever?" he chuckled. "I knew you would be reasonable. Now, why don't we seal this arrangement with a kiss?" without giving her any chance to protest, he planted his lips against hers. Helen felt the softness of his lips, and the soft insistent tongue pushing in between hers. She pushed him away, heaving.

"Delicious." He grinned.

"You disgust me!"

"You won't, soon enough. Don't worry, your virginal body is safe from me. I don't bed females who aren't interested in me, and there is your love which I have to earn."

"I will never desire you."

"Never say never dear. I tend to grow on a person."

"….. I don't like this place."  _I don't like you._

He looked around. "I forget how harsh the climate can be. Too dreadful for your taste? You're right. It's no place to earn my bride's love. No place for courtship at all. How about I take you to somewhere romantic?"

Her vision whirled again, and this time, she found herself standing on top of a building, the glittering lights of a city against the backdrop of a starlit night.

"This is—"

"The city of love."

"Paris."

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

She was about to respond, but her vision whirled again. Damn him, couldn't he stay put? Then they were standing in the middle of an elegantly furnished room. Helen saw the same glittering lights from the window, and she guessed they were still in Paris.

"I bought this residence not too long ago. We can stay here." He said.

"Your vow." She reminded him. As long as she was here, as long as she played the sacrificial lamb, her sisters would be safe. Safe in the new world.

"As long as you keep yours."

Not listening to him, she walked around the room. "Will he have servants?"

"Behaving like a queen, I see. I could get them-."

"-no, no servants."

"If you want to change your mind, tell me."

Walking towards the window, she looked at the beautiful city lights once more. Admiring the view she would be having from this day onward. "Will you drink from me, vampire?" she finally asked. She heard his footsteps and felt his presence behind her.

A cool finger brushed a strand of hair that covered her neck. Lazily, he traced the path of her carotid artery, that sweet spot that vampires loved the most. "You have no idea how much I want to, Helen." You don't know how much self-control I'm exerting right now. I've heard the experience of drinking from one's bride, and I truly am eager to have that experience. But then, this vow… and earning this love. Ah…"

"What if that time never comes?"

"hm? Is that a challenge I hear? I love challenges."

"Never mind." She moved away from him, not quite facing him yet. "Can we have separate quarters?"

"Of course." Then he traced right in front of her, and she found herself imprisoned in his arms. "I've been quite considerate of you. Won't you even give me a kiss?" Not waiting for her response, he kissed her anyway. "One day, you will kiss me of your own volition, Helen, and I look forward when that day comes."

"Never." Was her immediate response.

He laughed, a long hard laugh. "Want to wager? Hm, let's have another kiss for that challenge." And her kissed her the third time again, earning much of her ire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Three more chapters to finish this story. I've already written the dialogues for the succeeding chapters. The only thing left it to flesh out the narrative descriptions. thank you the people who've taken an interest in this story!


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